


Bird in the Wood, Parts I & II

by Spindlerella



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 16:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13438947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spindlerella/pseuds/Spindlerella
Summary: A plausible childhood AU in which Nicole (10) and Waverly (6) briefly cross paths. More parts if readers are interested.





	Bird in the Wood, Parts I & II

BIRD IN THE WOOD, PART 1

“Come on, Nicole!” Dan shouted as he quickly passed her the basketball. Brian, an offending teammate (and Nicole’s best friend) jumped in for the steal. “Stop him, Nic!” Dan called, running after Brian. “We need this point!”

Nicole ran towards Brian. This was the championship game. They had been playing two on two all week, and now it was Friday. The final match. Nicole and Dan vs. Brian and Wesley. She didn’t want to lose.

As Nicole swiftly approached Brian, she saw the plea in his eyes as she snatched the ball from his hands. You’re my best friend, his quick glance seemed to say. Can’t you miss on purpose just this once? For me? Your buddy?

But Nicole was taller, and she rarely missed. The basketball swooshed through the net, and the game was over. Dan and Nicole whooped and hollered and gave each other exaggerated chest-bumps. Brian approached and held out his hand. “Good game, Nic,” he said.

“You too,” she answered.

Then the bell blared loudly, and fifth-grade recess was over. As she headed across the hardtop, she saw the first graders looking at her with awe. She grinned at them and gave a celebratory wave.

Nicole practically soared down the upstairs hallway. Basketball champion! The fifth graders did this tournament every year, and she had been watching and waiting since kindergarten.

“Five minutes for the bathroom and water,” Mrs. Dixon called to her students. “I’m timing you.”

Nicole quickly used the restroom, and after washing her hands, she cupped water in them and splashed it on her face. Red splotches stood out on her cheeks and she could see the sweat on her hairline. But she had won. It didn’t matter.

And then the bathroom door opened, and two of her classmates entered. And then it did matter.

“Well, look who it is,” Laurie exclaimed.

“Nicole Haught,” her sidekick Angelica answered, as though she didn’t see Nicole every day, as though she didn’t know her name, as though they hadn’t been in the same class since day one. “Although,” Angelica continued snootily, “I think now we need to call her Haught and Sweaty.”

The girls cackled as if it were the funniest thing. Nicole couldn’t figure out what she had done to turn the girls against her. It hadn’t always been this way. The three of them lived in the same neighborhood, went to the same birthday parties, had even had sleepovers together. But then fourth grade happened, and Laurie and Angelica discovered gymnastics and earrings and stopped shopping from the Penney’s catalog. Then fifth grade rolled around, and they discovered boys. And somehow, Nicole got lost in the shuffle.

“P.U.,” Laurie agreed, holding her nose dramatically. “You smell like your brother’s gym bag. You smell like a boy.”

Instead of answering, Nicole looked at them with interest. They fawned over boys but didn’t like the way they smelled? Or did they not like girls who were sweaty? Nicole always stood up for herself on the court, she stood up for herself at home, but somehow, when cornered by her two ex-best friends, she couldn’t even respond.

“She kind of looks like a boy, too, doesn’t she?” asked Angelica. “Flat as a board.”

Nicole turned away from the sink. As she flung open the door, she heard Laurie say, “No one would ever date a girl that looks like that.”

The girls giggled as Angelica answered that it was much easier to love pretty people. The bathroom door slammed shut.

Nicole slid into her seat beside Brian and pulled out her math textbook.

“Hey Nic,” Brian asked as Mrs. Dixon wrote the lesson pages on the board, “you wanna come over after school for a rematch?”

Five minutes ago, she would have jumped at the chance. “No thanks,” she answered quietly, and pretended she didn’t notice how his face fell in disappointment.

 

As the bus let her off, Nicole pulled her housekey from under her shirt. She wore it on a leather cord, so it wouldn’t get lost, and throughout the day, the feel of the cold metal on her (very flat) chest was comforting.

She let herself in, and went to the kitchen, where her mom had set out two cookies for an after-school snack. She always left a note, so Nicole read it while she drank a pop. Nic, Drink some juice. Please toss a salad to go with dinner. I’ll be home by five with your brother. Love you! Mom

Nicole ignored the part about the juice, but did make a nice salad and set it in the fridge to chill. Normally after school she would shoot hoops outside or attack the punching bag in the garage. Her parents were pretty understanding that she wouldn’t want to do homework after just finishing regular work. And she was ten, after all. Old enough to control her own afternoons.

Instead of the ball or the bag, Nicole went up to her room and closed the door. She searched her bookshelf, but couldn’t find what she was looking for among her Goosebumps and Matt Christopher novels. She looked through her dirty clothes pile, her underwear drawer, and finally, in the back of her closet hidden among her old Barbies and Popples, she found the book she was looking for. The book about changing bodies for girls. Nicole had made retching noises when her mom had brought it home and had even exclaimed that she would miss her stop on the puberty bus, and promptly buried the book. Now, she hurriedly flipped through the pages, finally finding the comical cartoon drawings depicting what she could expect at certain ages.

Ten to eleven years, breast buds develop, the text read. Nicole stripped off her shirt and stood in front of the full-length mirror on the back of her door. She looked hard, then held the book up beside her and compared herself to the drawing. Nope. No buds.

“Nicole?” Her mother pushed open the door, right into Nicole, causing her to fall backwards. She had been so involved in her examination she hadn’t even heard her mom come home.

“Goodness!” her mom commented as she noted Nicole. “Where is your shirt?”

“Mom!” Nicole cried. “You’re supposed to knock!”

“Oh, sorry, dear.” Her mom stepped out and closed the door, and then knocked promptly.

“Come in,” Nicole said begrudgingly as she slipped her shirt back over her head. Inside she wondered why she felt the need to be private. It wasn’t like there was anything to see.

“Why the long face?” her mom asked, sitting on Nicole’s bed. Nicole didn’t answer. Her mom was always kind, always caring, but tended to awfulize everything. If Nicole failed a test, maybe she had a learning disability; if she was thirsty, it was perhaps diabetes. Once Nicole came home from school complaining of a headache and her mom immediately decided it was a brain tumor. What would her mom’s reaction be to this? Nicole shuddered as she imagined her mother calling the doctor and telling him, “My daughter has no breasts!”

“You can tell me,” her mom cajoled, and so Nicole answered like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Oh, some girls were just teasing me because I play with the boys. And also, they called me flat chested.” Nicole didn’t meet her mother’s gaze as her voice lilted.

“Oh,” her mother replied, but didn’t say anything for a moment. That was weird. No cancer? No breast implant surgery? “Well,” she finally said, “we can go shopping tomorrow. It might make you more comfortable to wear a training bra.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow. “A what?”

“A training bra. It’s like a sports bra, sort of.”

“What’s it training?”  
Her mom sighed. “Oh, Nicole, don’t be so literal.” Nicole huffed. “Training you to be a woman,” she said, with a little more force than Nicole expected.

Nicole heard her dad come home from work and headed downstairs. She passed her brother at the table, doing homework. He was older, maybe he understood these things.

“Can I ask you something?” she questioned.

He looked at her. “Sure.”

“When you got to puberty, did you, like, have to wear training boxers or something before you could wear men’s boxers?”

He started laughing. “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard,” he said, once he had gotten ahold of himself.

 

Nicole greeted her dad in the garage. Some dads came home and read the paper, but her dad was different. He was better. He carved things to relax. He could make anything, birds, foxes. He even made her a special rack for her sports ribbons.

“Hi Nic,” he answered, and went back to sanding a square block of wood.

He sanded, and Nicole attacked the punching bag. Finally, Nicole called over her hits, “The girls at school made fun of me because I don’t have boobs.” Her dad kept sanding, but she knew he was listening. He always listened. “I don’t know why that’s a big deal,” she continued. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her dad put down the sandpaper and pick up a thin knife. The whittling knife, she called it. “And you know what else?” she asked. “They said no one will ever date me! How can I even date? I can’t even drive! I can’t even do long division!”

Nicole saw her dad smile as she gave the bag one final punch. She went over and sat beside him on his old bench. He gave her a scrap block of wood. “I love the smell of this,” she said, breathing deeply. He handed her a piece of sandpaper.

“I probably won’t date anyhow,” Nicole said, roughly attacking the wood. “I’m going to be too busy saving the world!” Most girls in her class wanted to be moms, nurses, or teachers, but not her. Nicole had bigger plans.

Her dad chuckled. “Well, Nic, maybe you’ll have time for both,” he replied quietly. “When you’re older of course. Ten is awfully young for both of those things.”

“You know what I think is stupid?” Nicole asked, as her dad handed her a knife smaller than his, “Laurie and Angelica and all the girls are so obsessed with the way everyone looks! I wish we could all wear paper bags over our heads.” She roughly hacked off slivers of wood.  
“Gentle,” her dad said, guiding her hand to slow. “Only take off a little bit at a time.”

“You know what?” Nicole asked. Her dad titled his head toward her, his signal that he was curious. “If I ever fell in love with a girl, I wouldn’t care about if she was beautiful. I’d care that she was smart, so she could help me with my homework, and I’d care that she liked animals, and I’d care that she wouldn’t be afraid of scary movies, and I’d really, really care that she was kind.” She paused for a moment, and said to the wood, “Of course, it would be okay if she wasn’t ugly, I’m just saying.”

Her dad smiled. “We have always told you that it’s the inside that counts.”

“And don’t judge a book by its cover!” Nicole threw the smaller block into the air, the shavings falling onto her dad’s lap. “Sorry,” she said, but he didn’t brush them off.

“It won’t matter anyway,” her dad said. “The more you love someone, the more beautiful they become.” He winked. “Your mother gets prettier every day.”

“Dad. Eww.” Nicole turned the wood over in her hands, then over again. “I’m not the same as them” she said quietly. “The other girls.”

Her dad thought a moment. “I’m glad you’re not,” he said. “And I think you’re glad as well.”

Nicole didn’t answer, but let that sink in. “What am I carving?” she finally asked.

“You’ll know when you’re done.”

She groaned. “Da-ad. Are you going to tell me that stupid sculpture story again?”

“About how the carving is already inside and it’s the artist’s job to find it and set it free? Yes.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “It might be a bird,” Nicole said, willing the image to come.

“However it turns out, it will be perfect,” her dad replied. “I’ll love it.” And maybe he wasn’t talking about the wood.

Nicole teased, “I never said I was giving it to you!”

“Are you two out in the garage?” Nicole heard her mother call. “It’s time for dinner!”

Her dad stood up and kissed her head. “You could give it to a very smart girl with a big heart,” he teased back.

Nicole set her small piece on the work table. “Well, I’ll have plenty of time to find someone. At this rate it’ll take me twenty years to finish this dumb thing,” she said good-naturedly.

As she followed her dad inside she thought that okay, maybe she might possibly want to love someone someday. As long as she could still save the world in her spare time.

 

BIRD IN THE WOOD, PART 2

 

Waverly hung her head in embarrassment. “You’re lying,” her teacher, Mr. Bern, firmly stated. “No first grader can read that fast.” The other kids in the class giggled. “Read it again,” he ordered. So Waverly read the baby text about kittens losing their mittens for the third time, while her classmates struggled with the first sentence.

Waverly missed home. She didn’t like the foster family, she didn’t like the city. But what was home, now? During free draw time, she added another picture to her notebook of her aunt and uncle. She added in herself and Wynonna, but not Willa. Willa. Waverly knew she shouldn’t hate anyone, but Willa was different. Thankfully, she had been placed somewhere else. But what if Wynonna got sent somewhere else, and she had to go with Willa? Don didn’t seem to care either way about two new kids in his house, but Sonja didn’t really like Waverly, and she threatened to call Social Services to take Wynonna every day.

The only good part of first grade was recess. The weather was still warm, and Waverly stood on the edge of the hardtop. Some of the boys in her class played on the jungle gym, and others watched the basketball games that the big kids played. The kids were on the swing set or in small groups playing hand-clap games. Waverly sighed and went to watch the basketball games. The other boys watching were talking about their Halloween costumes.

“I’m going to be Batman!” one boy called out. “That’s the coolest!”

“No way!” another argued. “I’m gonna be Dracula with fake blood all over me!”

“What about you, new girl?” asked the first boy. “You being something scary?”

Waverly didn’t answer.

“Why’d ya ask her?” the second boy questioned. “She never talks. She belongs in the special class. She can’t even read!”

The first boy snorted. “My brother goes to the middle school with her sister, and says she’s crazy! Threw a chair at a teacher the other day. And swore.”

The boys scooted away from Waverly, but she acted like she didn’t notice and kept watching the basketball players. This must have been a pretty important game. Waverly watched the tall red-haired girl make a basket and start cheering. She must have saved the game, Waverly thought, and when the recess bell rang she cheered with the rest of the first graders. Waverly smiled when the tall girl turned and waved.

 

When Waverly got off the bus, Sonja was already home with Wynonna, yelling at her in the kitchen. Waverly sat at the table and listened.

“You can’t go around kicking people in the mouth!” Sonja yelled. “That boy had to go to the doctor because of you!”

“He deserved it! He called me a psycho!”

Sonja sighed. “I’m starting to think you are,” she said coldly.

Wynonna stood up and moved closer to Sonja. “Send us back to Gus and Curtis,” she said. 

“Your aunt and uncle are busy cleaning up your mess,” Sonja replied. “I highly doubt that you’ll be going home after your little stint.” Waverly stood up beside Wynonna and took her hand. She loved her sister, no matter what. “And you,” Sonja said, glaring down at Waverly, “What’s the matter with you? What do you want?”

“Can I have a Halloween costume for tomorrow?” Waverly asked, whispering. “My class has a party.”

Sonja huffed and threw her hands in the air. “I can’t believe it!” she said to the sky, then stormed out of the room.

Waverly looked at Wynonna. “I don’t think you’re crazy,” Waverly whispered to her sister. “I know the truth.”

Wynonna smiled. “I know, baby sis. Now, you need a costume for tomorrow?” Waverly nodded. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go get you one. Would you like that?” Waverly nodded again. Wynonna picked up her backpack from the floor and headed out.

Sonja heard the door and hollered, “And where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Shopping!” 

“You don’t have any money!”

“Who says you need money to go shopping?”

Sonja’s face was a scary shade of red. “If you walk out that door, your time here is done. I’m calling the police.”

Wynonna flipped her the bird and slammed the door.

 

That night, after Wynonna returned and got grounded again, she handed Waverly a plastic bag that she had shoved deep in her backpack. “Put it on at school,” she said. “Sonja is convinced I stole something. Which, of course, I didn’t.” She winked as Waverly’s grin took up her entire face.

 

The next morning, in the elementary bathroom, Waverly put on the costume. She had been hoping that it would be Rainbow Brite, but a unicorn was just as good. The frilly pink tutu fit over her leggings, and her arms slipped easily through the elastic straps, fitting the wings just so against her back. Last, the unicorn headband fit perfectly.

“Are you an angel?” a classmate asked.

“Are you a ballerina?” asked another.

Waverly didn’t answer. But she knew who she was.

 

Later, all the little kids went to the gym for a big party. There was a haunted house, cupcakes, games, and lots of shouting. Waverly stood in a corner, watching. She heard her name being called and turned to see her teacher.

“The office wants to see you,” he said. “You’re being picked up, so take your backpack.” He looked at Waverly. “Do you understand me?” Waverly nodded. “Go back to the classroom, get your things, then go to the front office. Okay?” Waverly nodded again.

Waverly found her classroom just fine, but got confused trying to find the front office. Should she have turned left instead of right? Gone upstairs instead of down? She was in a very crowded hallway, with kids running around from classroom to classroom wielding costume swords and cupcakes. A pirate pushed her into an executioner. The executioner pushed her to the ground. Waverly scooted against the wall and put her head to her knees. She felt tears in her eyes. Why hadn’t she looked at the fire escape map before she left the gym? Then she could have found the office.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and a voice say, “Hey kid, you okay?” Waverly looked up to the tall red-haired girl, the one who won the basketball game.

“I’m lost,” Waverly whispered. The girl took her hand and helped her up. “Can you help me find the office?” she asked.

The girl nodded, and poked her head into a nearby classroom. Waverly heard her talk briefly to her teacher, and then the girl took her hand and walked with her down the hallway.

“I like your costume,” she said to Waverly. “You’re a unicorn, right?”

Waverly smiled and nodded, pleased that someone knew. She looked at the girl’s costume. “I’m a cop,” the girl said, in answer to an unasked question. “A good cop, not a bad one.”

They reached the office, and the girl walked Waverly to the front desk. The secretary told her to take a seat, and the principal would be right with her. She handed Waverly some paper and crayons to keep her busy.

“You can go back to class,” the secretary told the tall girl, and she turned and looked at Waverly. “You going to be okay?” she asked.

Waverly nodded.

“Okay, well, see you around,” she turned and headed toward the office door.

“Thank you,” Waverly whispered, but she didn’t think that the girl heard. Not until she turned, and smiled and waved over her shoulder. Then she went through the open door, turned the corner, and was gone.

 

Waverly made a comic book while she waited, a gift for the tall girl. She entitled it “The Tall SooperHero Saves the Wurld.” Waverly knew something wasn’t spelled right, but couldn’t quite figure it out. She drew the tall girl winning a basketball game, helping a tiny unicorn to the school office, rescuing a cat from a tree, and putting baby bluebirds back in a nest. Those were all really great ways to save the world, Waverly thought.

Don and Sonja came out of the office with a large manila envelope. Waverly looked questioningly at the envelope, but they didn’t tell her anything. She read the word records on the front.

 

After dinner, there was a knock on the door. It was the social worker. “Get your things,” Sonja said, and Don gave them each a large paper bag. Wynonna and Waverly didn’t have many things, so Waverly packed her few outfits and all her drawings. 

The social worker was waiting in the living room. “Waverly, you’re coming with me,” she said. “It’s time to go home.” Gus! Curtis! Waverly was so happy! 

But then, she heard a small voice, “But what about me?” She looked over at Wynonna.

The social worker sighed. “You’ve gotten in a lot of trouble,” she said to Wynonna. “I’ve received calls from Don and Sonja, your school, and even the police. I think a group home is a better fit.”

“I won’t go!” Wynonna said.

“I won’t go!” Waverly copied, and stamped her foot for good measure.

The social worker looked at Waverly. “Go wait in the car,” she said. 

Waverly looked at Wynonna. She nodded at the door. “Go, little sis,” she said. “It’s okay. I’ll see you again soon.”

When the social worker came out to the car, she was alone.

“You will see her again, I promise,” she said to Waverly. Waverly nodded, and looked out the window. She was crying, and didn’t even realize she had started.

“Your aunt and uncle are ready for you,” the lady said in a soothing tone. “And they’ll be ready for your sister soon. And Willa, too.”

“I don’t like Willa,” Waverly said stubbornly through her tears. “I want to stay.” The social worker didn’t answer. “I had a friend!” Waverly said a moment later. “I made her a picture! I was going to give it to her tomorrow.”

The social worker still didn’t reply, and Waverly gave up, cries subsiding into occasional sobs. She watched out the window as the city gave way to the forest. 

“You’ll see them both again,” the lady said, repeating herself, but it didn’t make it better.

This time it was Waverly who didn’t reply. She pressed her forehead against the cold car window. She thought she saw a bluebird flitting in the woods, but she wasn’t sure. It looked lost, or trapped inside the trees. She hoped the little bird made it out.


End file.
